


Memories

by ficteer



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s times like these when the memories —</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

1\. He remembers her.

She was soft and warm and everything he could never be. Milk chocolate laughter and fingers dancing between his shoulder blades like stars on rippled water filled his senses every night as he sipped from the cream of her shoulders and experimented with how fast he could make her heart beat against his cheek. She was divine, a queen among women, curling her body into his and taking everything he had to offer like he was the only thing that kept her alive. She made the power swirl in his gut with every caress, every pass of her sweet tongue over her lips as she whined and begged in a manner as ladylike as anything he’d ever expected. Long limbs wrapping around him, warmth clenching and deep until he finally filled her to the brim and spilled over onto the satin sheets. Fingers clenching and mouths nothing more than brushing caresses, she taught him about love and the miracle that strength married with such femininity could bring.

2\. He can’t forget her.

Sugary sweet and twice as addicting, she’d been the whirlwind that tousled his hair until he couldn’t see. Her laughter prancing between his ears not quite unlike her gazelle legs that had her bounding around the room, she charmed him until he was spinning and wild. Darling, my darling, she would call, fingers always reaching back for him until he would catch up, body lithe and footsteps light. Every kiss was an explosion of light and flavor, a habit he couldn’t bear to break. She was glorious, untamed, magnificent, a thing untouched even as his fingers caressed, a being pure even as she plastered herself against him, naked and desperate and yet as free as the drifts of white sugar blowing in a careless wind, slowing only to collect herself once again in time with the slow movement of her fingers along his jaw from one tip of his scar to the next.

3\. He ignores her.

The mask is a nuisance, he thinks. He’d tried the first time to close his eyes, imagine again his queen of a woman, but the softness was different, the gasps deep and rolling, the thighs tightening around his corded with a strength his woman would never have. Once he’d accepted it, immersed himself in the present, it was always a lingering thought. There was no flushed cheeks or parted lips, no furling brow or clenched teeth that met each caress that had his own body quaking with desire and longing. There was only a cheshire grin and occasional moans as catlike as the mask firmly in place and the fingernails digging delightfully into his biceps. 

4\. He forgets her.

There is no sugar here, no wind carrying a scent of sweetness to his nose for it to wrap around his brain and intoxicate him, no womanly laugh of delight as his fingers curled in just the right place. His body reacted differently to this touch, a touch more familiar with his anatomy, knowing what was toe-curling and what was spine-stiffening and what was muscle-melting along each square inch of skin. The skin beneath his seeking palms was rougher and stretched over tauter muscles, jumping against his caress in different patterns that were perhaps equally as wonderful if his brain could maneuver past the orgasmic pleasure threatening to cut the escapade short. Half of him wanted to remove his mask and see just how this kind of kiss would taste - bittersweet as the curl of the man’s lips, or sweet as the sin he was trying to perpetrate; but the other half knew that it would never happen. The mask would stay despite each roll of his hips that had the strings falling dangerously loose around his head.

5\. _Do you want some coffee… my love?_

6. _Say goodbye to Zacharie for me._


End file.
